


Only You

by ariel2me



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-23 18:11:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariel2me/pseuds/ariel2me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two fathers, two children, and a boy with a king’s blood who cast a long shadow over them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Edric was my father’s great shame, and your father’s glory,” Shireen had told Devan once, in the dark days before her cousin’s return from exile.

Dark days that in retrospect, would begin to look more and more like the calm before a storm. But only in retrospect. At the time, Shireen’s conviction was the only light there was, shining so brightly that it blinded Devan to anything else. Edric’s return would be their salvation, she insisted. Edric was the sin they _all_ shared, the four of them, the only Baratheon and Seaworth still living.

“But even that glory did not last long,” she continued. “Your father smuggled Edric away to save his life, but returned to serve the man who was going to burn an innocent child. Edric was your friend - yes, he was, he thought of you as a friend, he told me so more than once – yet you refused to believe what my father had planned for Edric for the longest time, out of loyalty. Edric is my cousin, my friend as well, yet here I sit, the Crown Princess, heir to the Iron Throne, as if I have any right to it at all.”

She did not mention her father’s sin. She did not have to.

Shireen had learned to judge harshly. The people she loved, even herself; but most of all, her father.  

Devan grieved for her, for the child who died the day he and Lady Melisandre had dragged her, kicking and screaming, from her dying mother’s side.

“Take her away. Take her to her father,” Queen Selyse had commanded. Even mortally wounded, blood pouring from her side, she had sounded as haughty as ever.

“We will go together, my queen,” Lady Melisandre had pleaded. “There are ways. I … I have it seen it done.”

Ways to bring back the dead, Devan understood later.

“But you have not done it yourself?” Selyse had not waited for Melisandre’s answer. “There is no time! They must be scouring the castle looking for her now. My daughter must be kept safe, do you understand? She is heir to the rightful king. You will take her to her father at once.” She turned to Shireen and kissed her daughter’s cheek. “Lady Melisandre will keep you safe, until you find your father.” With her rapidly dwindling strength, Selyse pushed Shireen away. “Take her. I hear them coming!”

They escaped death that day, the three of them, while countless others were not as lucky, in the ensuing battle and confusion after Lord Commander Snow was betrayed by his own sworn brothers. But Lady Melisandre was the only one who truly lived after that day.

When Shireen’s constant effort behind her father’s back finally paid off and Edric was found, it was Devan’s father who made the loudest objection to Edric being welcomed back from exile.

“Why? You were the one who smuggled him away to save his life. He has done nothing wrong! You of all people should know that.” Those were the words coming out of Shireen’s mouth, but her face was shouting something else. Betrayal. She saw Davos’ objection as a betrayal. _How could you? I thought I could count on your support._

“I did it because he was an innocent boy, my princess,” Davos said gently, trying to catch Shireen’s eyes.

“And he’s not innocent now?”

“He is a man who will bring countless complications to the realm.” There was no need for Davos to say more.

“Edric is a bastard,” Shireen pointed out.

“Yes, but the late King Robert acknowledged Edric as _his_ bastard,” Davos replied.

“Acknowledged, but did not legitimize,” Devan said. His father gave him a sharp glance. Devan looked down in shame. _Forgive me, Father._

“If some people are truly bent on rebellion, they would be willing to say anything. Malicious rumors are already floating around that King Robert, on his deathbed, aware of the fact that Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen were not his children, had secretly legitimized Edric,” Davos continued.

“It _is_ terrible how some people are willing to say and do almost anything to win the throne, isn’t it?” Shireen’s tone was chilling.

But Shireen got her way in the end. Devan did not know what she had said to her father to convince him, but she got her way and Edric was brought back from exile and welcomed in the Red Keep.

Edric was the spark who brought warmth to the icy coldness that had descended between father and daughter long before Stannis Baratheon won his throne. Edric was also the only one who could make Shireen smile - something she had not done since the day her mother died. Edric with his easy charm and his good temper, with his stories about his exciting adventures during exile, all recounted joyfully and without any resentment for the reason behind that exile, seemingly.

“We are going to marry, Edric and I,” Shireen confided to Devan. “It … it will be a fitting end, after everything.”

He was not certain what she meant by ‘a fitting end.’ Devan smiled, even if it was the last thing he wanted to do. _It is a good thing_ , he told himself. _Edric makes her happy._

And he made her forget. Devan always made her remember.

But there were times when Devan saw a different, darker side to Edric. The man who was not smiling as he asked Devan why he did not resent Stannis for his entire family - except his father -dying for Stannis’ cause.

“My older brothers were killed by Joffrey’s wildfire. My mother and younger brothers died of greyscale, brought to Westeros by the follower of another usurper trying to gain the throne. I have no reason to resent King Stannis,” Devan replied. “Do you … do you resent the king for what happened to you?” He asked Edric, after a long pause.

Edric quickly laughed. “Of course not. Water under the bridge, my friend. And in any case, I am alive, am I not? That is more than we can say for so many others.”

To his sorrow, Devan’s father had been right after all. Edric had asked for Shireen’s hand in marriage, and the king had refused. “Be patient,” Shireen had told him. “Father will give in, in the end. He always does for me. He _owes_ me that, he feels.” But Edric had not listened to her pleas. He brought men to storm the castle and to depose the king instead, declaring himself the late King Robert’s true heir.

It was a futile plot from the start; Edric had nowhere near enough supporters for one. And Andrew Estermont, the man who had been Edric’s guardian, his only family and friend during his long exile, had betrayed him to King Stannis. “I could not make him understand,” Estermont had said with sorrow. “He refuses to see the complete folly of what he is about to do. There has been enough bloodshed, enough deaths.”

 _He never meant to succeed_ , Devan finally understood. Edric never wanted the throne. What he wanted was revenge. Revenge for his long exile. Revenge for the fire that would have consumed him if Davos Seaworth had not defied his king. Revenge for Cortnay Penrose, the castellan of Storm’s End who had been his true father as a boy growing up at Storm’s End. Revenge for Renly Baratheon, the uncle who did not always remember that he had a nephew living under his roof, but at least had agreed to foster his brother’s bastard, unlike Stannis who had told Robert the child was better off dead.

He told the king all this, and more, while holding a sword to Shireen’s throat.

“Kill me, then. If it is revenge you want,” the king had said.

Edric had laughed. “Why would I kill a man with one foot in the grave? I want you to _suffer_! To watch as I carve your daughter’s throat, the last of your family. The only person you ever come close to loving, the man who loves no one at all.”

Sword on sword. Sword on flesh, Devan’s and Edric’s. The last thing Devan remembered was the sound of Shireen screaming.

He woke up with his father sitting by his bedside. “The princess. And the king. Are they –“

“They are both safe,” his father reassured Devan at once.

“Edric?”

Davos shook his head. “Rest, my son. You need it.” Devan fell asleep to his father singing the lullaby Marya Seaworth had sung to her sons, when they were young boys.

When Devan woke up next, the king had taken his father’s place. He looked frail, as if he had not slept in days. His hands tried to tidy up the blanket covering Devan, but they shook so horribly.

Devan had remembered more of what transpired in the throne room that day. He remembered Shireen holding Edric in her arms, blood pouring from his chest.

“I thought we could love each other enough to erase the hatred in my heart. But it turns out I will always hate your father more than I could ever love you. Maybe if you had been another man’s daughter …”

Devan did not remember Shireen’s reply.

“Thank you,” the king said stiffly. “For saving my daughter. She is … she is the only one … the only …” his voice broke. He stood up hastily, said his farewell without looking at Devan. “Rest, and get well quickly. Your father has been sick with worry.”

 _Shireen would not thank me_ , Devan thought. _I killed the man she loved._

Shireen came to see him two days later.

“I am sorry,” that was the first thing he said to her.

She did not say – _you have nothing to be sorry for._

She took his hand. “You are forgiven,” she whispered.

“You loved him.” It was not a question he was asking her.

She looked uncertain. “I wanted to heal him. I thought … I thought if I could do that, perhaps I could heal myself as well. We were two damaged souls who would be of no use to anyone else, but perhaps we could be of use to each other, that’s what I thought.” So she had always seen the darkness in Edric too, the anger and the sorrow simmering underneath. Shireen paused for a long time, her hand still holding on to Devan’s. “So you see, I was using him too,” she finally said.

“He was using you to gain revenge on your father,” Devan said.

“And I was using him to pay for my father’s sins. Who’s to say which one of us is the worse betrayer?”

“You didn’t try to kill him,” Devan pointed out.

“I might not have meant to. But I killed him nonetheless. If I had not insisted on finding him, if I had not forced my father to bring him back from exile, Edric would still be alive.” She was as certain of this as she was about the sun rising in the east. She was as merciless on herself as she had been on her father.

“My princess, Edric made his own choices. He –“

“I have to marry. Soon,” she interrupted Devan abruptly. “Edric’s failed rebellion has been giving some people ideas. Uncle Robert had other bastards. I must marry and produce an heir. A son. That is the only way to secure the throne and prevent more bloodshed.”

Devan waited. For his heart to break. Again.

“I would not ask this of you if I thought you already have a woman you wanted to wed. But you wanted to be in the Kingsguard. I assume that meant there is no one,” Shireen said.

 _This?_ What was she asking him to do?

“You are the only man I can trust, Devan. My oldest friend. My only friend for a long time,” she continued. “But if there is a woman –“

“No, there isn’t,” Devan replied quickly.

 “No one, Devan?”

_Only one. Only you._

“No, my princess. No one.”

“Shireen. You better start calling me Shireen, if we are to marry.”

Her name, when he finally said it, was an invocation, a prayer to the gods he had long ceased to believe. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“I will not do that to your father,” the king had said, when he refused Devan the Kingsguard. “I cannot rob him of his heir, his last remaining son.” The only one left to continue the Seaworth name, those were the unspoken words between them. “You will be Lord of the Rainwood someday. Do you understand?”

Devan nodded, and felt duly chastised. He did not tell the king, just as he had never told his father, that the thought of inheriting the land where his mother, Steff and Stanny had lost their lives filled him with dread and dismay. He did not voice his suspicion that he was not a man who should be entrusted with marriage, children and family, having lost so much of his family already.

Shireen had accused him of blind loyalty, when Devan first told her of his dream for the Kingsguard. “Is that all you can think of? Serving my father?”

To serve and protect. To be by the king’s side, always. Devan did not see what was wrong with that.

“It’s amazing how my father has somehow managed to inveigle so much loyalty from the Seaworths. Your father, your older brothers, now you,” Shireen had said, her voice full of contempt. Contempt for her father? Or contempt for Devan himself? Devan almost wished it was the latter. Shireen’s bitterness and anger towards her father was in a strange way reminding Devan of the king, and his own bitterness and anger towards his brothers. It was as if in adamantly trying to despise him, Shireen and her father were becoming more and more alike.

After Edric, Shireen had come to believe this as well. Believing herself guilty of a great sin too, she saw the two of them, father and daughter, as two sides of the same coin. “We’re both so convinced that we’re doing the right thing. His arrogance! I used to rail against that.  _How dare he, thinking that he is the only one who knows best, the only one making the hard choices for the right reasons, when others are too cowardly to do so._  But I am not so different after all. I thought I knew best, about Edric. And look what came of that.”

“Perhaps it is a Baratheon trait,” Devan said, as a jest, to halt her self-recrimination.  _You’re too hard on yourself, just as you were too hard on your father_ , he wanted to say.

Shireen, however, took his words seriously, not as a jest. She nodded glumly. “Perhaps. Perhaps our House words should not be  _‘Ours is the Fury’_ , but  _‘Ours is the Misguided Self-Righteousness’_.

‘ _Ours is All the Words Unspoken’_  was more apt, thought Devan, as he watched Shireen and the king tersely exchanging a few words at dinner.

“The Princess of Dorne –“

Shireen interrupted. “Yes, of course, Father. I would hardly forget to invite her, would I?” She paused. “Princess Arianne’s brother as well,” she announced, staring at her father defiantly.

The king’s expression darkened. “Shireen,” he said, just the one word, but loaded with countless warnings and implications.

“Prince Trystane will of course be bringing his lady wife with him,” Shireen continued, her gaze never faltering from her father. She waited for her father to object, but the king said nothing. “I want Cousin Myrcella at my wedding.”

“You wanted Edric to come back from his exile, and that turned out so well.” The words, said not with scorn or anger, but in a toneless, inflectionless voice, as if the king was merely reading out some historical facts, were all the more cutting and hurtful because of that.

“Your Grace!“ Devan’s father was the one who objected, glaring sharply at the king, who refused to meet his Hand’s gaze.

Shireen’s calmness was heartbreaking. “Myrcella will not stage a rebellion. She is not Edric, Father. She is still grateful to you for sparing her life and allowing her to stay in Dorne,” Shireen replied to her father, her voice as emotionless as his had been. “And you never tried to burn Myrcella,” she added, her tone just as matter-of-fact as before.

The king did not flinch, just as Shireen had not flinched when her father mentioned Edric. It would have been better if they had fought, argued loudly, shouted at each other, had scenes of tears and recriminations, Devan thought. The eerie stillness and deceptive calmness of most of their conversations were more foreboding than anything else would have been.

The moment passed quickly. They ate and drank quietly, the four of them, on a table too big for too few people. The ghosts of the dead stalked them, as it did every time the four of them were together. Devan’s father spoke of the guests coming from outside the Seven Kingdoms. Shireen told them her estimates for how much the wedding feast would cost. The king told Devan that no, of course Devan could not continue being Shireen’s sworn shield, now that he was to be her husband. “It should have been a Kingsguard in the first place, guarding the Crown Princess. Not just a knight,” the king said.

“Are you having second thoughts?” Shireen asked Devan unexpectedly, the next morning.

“What? No, of course not. Why would you –“

 “You were very quiet at dinner last night. You barely said a thing.” She searched his face carefully. He willed himself to erase any sign of doubt from it.

_This is not what I want for you, Shireen,_ he yearned to tell her. Marrying a man she did not love for the sake of the realm, for the sake of duty. Even if the man was Devan himself.  _I want you to love, and be loved._  But the words would not come.

_She needed me to do this for her. This is her wish, her choice_ , he argued with the doubting voices in his head.

_You want her to be yours. That is why you agreed to the marriage. Nothing to do with Shireen’s wish or choice_   _at all._  The voices were not done mocking Devan, however.

It was Shireen, however, who looked more doubtful, who looked like she was having second thoughts. “Perhaps … I was too hasty and impulsive. The voices calling for another rebellion seemed to have died down. It seems that not many have the appetite for more deaths. Even those lords who were beseeching Father to remarry and father a son to be his heir have admitted defeat.” Shireen’s ascension as the Crown Princess had been met with loud protests and constant appeals to the king, telling him that he was still young enough to father a son. “The Seven Kingdoms has never had a ruling queen,” they insisted. The king had turned a deaf ear to their objections and refused to entertain any suggestion of remarriage.

“Devan?”

Devan said nothing, and his face betrayed nothing. Not surprise, not disappointment, not relief, not sadness - all the sentiments he was, in fact, struggling to reconcile. Shireen frowned. “Well?” She asked, impatient with his silence.

“You should do what you think is best, my princess,” Devan replied.

Knowing her of old, Devan expected Shireen to ask –  _What do you think would be best, Devan?_  She did not always listen to his counsel – in fact, when it came to her father she most often ignored Devan’s words – but she had always asked for them. This time, however, she asked him an altogether different, and most unexpected, question.

“What do  _you_  want, Devan?”

He did not reply, not because the things he wanted were things he did not want her to know, but because he did not know them himself. He had sworn off _wanting_  the day his father told him about the three unmarked graves in Cape Wrath. “It is just us now, Devan. I am so sorry, my son.” His father had wept, long and hard. Devan did not. The tears would not come; he had been too exhausted and worn out for that.

Clarity. He wanted clarity. Clarity of purpose and action. Deep down, he knew that was the real reason he wanted to be in the Kingsguard. To serve and protect to the end of your days, there was clarity in that. Clarity and simplicity; or so he desperately wanted to believe.

How was it, Shireen had raged at Devan once, that of the four of them, he was the only one who seemed curiously untouched by it all? “Even my father, cold and hard as he is, even  _he_  has been irrevocably damaged in some ways. But you, you who have lost the most –“

She had stopped her tirade abruptly, and apologized. “I have no right to say that to you. Me, of all people.” They had never spoken of the matter again.

_I want to feel pain again_ , he would say to her now, if only he had the courage. Somehow, somewhere along the way, he had lost that capacity. No, Devan amended, he had not simply lost it as if it was a thing that could be misplaced so easily. Without fully realizing it, he had trained himself to lose it.

“What do you want, Devan?” Shireen repeated her question.

“You. I want you. Shireen.” To his relief, that seemed to be enough for Shireen. For now, at least.


End file.
